


The One Where Cormoran Spills His Guts (Sort Of)

by cbstrike



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Feelings, Ficlet, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hospital, Idiots in Love, Misunderstandings, Revelations, Romance, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28683192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cbstrike/pseuds/cbstrike
Summary: Cormoran undergoes a routine procedure. In the aftermath, a misunderstanding. But they get there in the end.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 24
Kudos: 95





	1. Cormoran undergoes a procedure.

Robin felt anxious, sitting on an armchair of an empty hospital room, trying to concentrate on the day-old paper that was the only thing available to read. She knew she shouldn’t feel uneasy. It was only an appendectomy. And even Nick was very cavalier about it when he took a quick glance at Cormoran’s chart. But her only other experience of an appendectomy was Cormoran’s nephew Jack, and the amount of tubes hooked up to the little boy wasn’t something she would easily forget.

Nick said it would only take about an hour. It’s been nearly two now.

Maybe they’re just waiting for him to fart or something, Robin thought, remembering vaguely that it was something that needed to happen in the recovery room before they wheel you out. The thought of a team of very serious doctors waiting around for a fart was easing the queasiness in the pit of her stomach.

Nick was so offhand about the whole business, which gave her comfort. He said the general surgeon wouldn’t even need to open him up. Indeed, the most interesting thing Nick found in Cormoran’s chart was that Robin was his emergency contact.

That came as a surprise to her as well, but she had been too busy with worry to dare to dig any deeper over what Cormoran meant by that. It also made her realise that she hadn’t updated her own emergency contact, and if some medical emergency were to happen to her, her now re-married ex-husband would be getting the call. And Matthew was the last person she wanted to see when she’s in any sort of distress.

 _So who would you want to see first, then?_ A sardonic voice in her head asked. The answer was very obvious, but Robin chose not to think it anyway. It’s inappropriate just then. She must brace herself for what will happen next instead of allowing her mind to fly to silly romantic musings as though she was a character from a romance novel.

She realised she didn’t have Lucy’s number, and then her anxiety clenched within her again. She wouldn’t need to call Lucy, Robin determinately thought. It’s just a routine procedure. Barely even surgery.

The door opened and Robin shot up, watching as two hospital orderlies wheeled the gurney with Cormoran on it, eyes closed emitting low groans.

She’s never seen him so weakened before. Something about wearing hospital gowns made him look nearly unrecognisable to her. She kind of wanted to stroke his hair or face or squeeze his hand. But that’s not a thing platonic best mates-slash-work partners did, was it?

“Is he alright?” she asked, worried about the persistent low groan coming from Cormoran’s mouth.

“Quite.” said one of the orderlies. “He’s just waking from general anaesthesia. He’ll come to in a bit.”

Robin nodded, thanking the orderlies, eyes not leaving Cormoran’s face.

He seemed to be garbling words.

“Need anything?” she asked, taking a folded up hospital sheet and draping it on him. “Are you cold?”

“S’rry Rb’n.” he garbled, sighing, hand raising up only to plop back down to his side.

Robin smiled. “What are you apologising for?” she pulled the chair to her, sitting by his head.

“Wrk too much…”

Robin chuckled. “Do I?”

He groaned in confirmation. “D’srve… d’srve bett’r.”

“I don’t know about that!” she replied, amused at this conversation she was having with a barely-conscious Cormoran. “Doubt there’d be other private detectives who’d promote me from temp to partner with my experience.”

He was garbling again and then suddenly, “‘m poor…”

Robin laughed. “Is that what you dream about?” she teased. “My salary package?”

“‘M one leg… legless.”

Robin knotted her eyebrows.

“Old… d’srve… d’srve better.”

Robin’s heart was suddenly beating far too fast, mind going blank, on tenterhooks over what Cormoran will say next.

“I… _glrg…_ you, Rob’n.”

Robin’s eyes widened, unsure of what he’d just said. “What? What did you just say?”

“I h’pe… h’pe y’re hap-ee… w’ me.”

Robin felt a little breathless, exhilarated. She laughed a little, squeezing his hand. He squeezed back. She knew this doesn’t count, this slurry admission revealed to her by him in this state. But she pictured this moment as though a firefly she’d keep in a tiny bottle, stoppered with a cork, kept in her pocket to be cherished forever.

She rested her elbows on the edge of his bed, chin on her knuckles, feeling tingly as though a young woman with a crush, trying to stave off the bigger, scarier feeling that they might be dipping their toes in a dangerous deep lake, testing the waters before taking a plunge.

“I am happy.” she whispers, even though they were quite alone. Wanting to tell him, even though he had no hope of remembering.

His eyes flutter, as though rousing finally from slumber. Robin pulls her face back, surprised, expecting him to fall asleep, prepared to watch him awhile and have a good think.

His dark eyes fall to hers, barely focused, but he sighs as though content to find her there.

“Y’r m’ best… best… R’bn.” he says, fighting the sleep that was pulling him under.

She laughs softly, daring a soft hand on his cheek. “Tell me again when you wake up.” she says, knowing full well he probably doesn’t even know she was there with him. “Tell me all of it so I know you mean it.”

He put his hand over hers caressing his cheek, giving it a squeeze. “M’kay.” and then again, “I _glrg_ you, Rob’n.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes. Can’t even say it proper, even out of his mind. She was half in disbelief of her own feelings. _Why do I like it?_ she asks herself hopelessly. _Why do I feel the same?_

She just sits there for a bit, enjoying the intimacy of being alone with him like this, allowing herself tothink for the first time since those days in the Maldives: _I love you too, Cormoran._


	2. In the aftermath, a misunderstanding.

“There he is!” Nick exclaimed, blustering inside the hospital room with pomp and noise and energy that really wasn’t in line with hospitals. But Robin jolted, wrenching her hand off Cormoran’s cheek and leaning back into her armchair. “Still alive, Oggy?” he asked. “Haven’t died?”

Cormoran only groaned, and Robin feeling cheered for so many reasons shook her head and chuckled at Nick’s ridiculousness.

He walked towards Robin, peering at Cormoran himself. “He’ll be able to go home tomorrow.” he informed Robin, though he was still looking at Cormoran. “No smoking or alcohol for 48 hours, alright, Oggy?” he said. “No sex too, although that isn’t an issue these days, is it?”

This somehow made Robin blush, and was glad Nick had his back to her.

“N’cky…” Cormoran groaned.

“Hm?” said Nick as he stretched to grab for Cormoran’s chart at the foot of his gurney.

“ _Glrg_ you, Nicky…”

“Aw,” Nick cooed absently, flipping Cormoran’s chart. “Love you too, pal.”

Robin longed for the ground to swallow her whole.

The last couple of days have been weird. Robin seemed cold. Distant. Cormoran couldn’t fathom why on earth that would be other than him making her his emergency contact without asking her first.

That must be it.

He had done it unthinkingly. Can’t even remember on which form he had put her down as his emergency contact. He did it because it made sense in his mind at the time. Assuming anything that would land him in the hospital would likely be work-related, and what better person to give context for the medical professionals than his business partner?

He had been presumptuous. Of course all other emergencies that incapacitate him would fall on Robin, and who was he to load her with his baggage? She had to be there on her off night to sit as he went through the procedure. She also picked him up, the most flexible of his friends and family, when he was discharged. Above and beyond business partner—or even best mate—duty.

He felt crestfallen, thinking if the tables were turned, he would’ve been honoured to find out that he had been appointed her person (Who was it then?). He had read their closeness completely wrong, then. He thought that maybe… perhaps… but _no_. Perhaps she didn’t see him that way. Or if she did, she doesn’t anymore.

This far, no further.

“Fancy some dinner?” he asked, making a decision. He needed to make it up to her. She didn’t like flowers nor chocolates. What else was there to offer as conciliation-cum-gratitude that is as desexed and platonic as clearly her feelings for him?

“I already ate.” she murmured, eyes still on the file she was perusing.

“Tomorrow then?”

She looked up at him at that, looking surprised. “Er,” she started, sounding unsure. For a split second, Cormoran thought she was going to say no. Turn him down, and he will finally hear plainly that she only sees him as a friend.

But then she said, “Okay,” when she put her attention back to the file. It didn’t exactly give him any pleasure.

Robin cannot seem to bloody read him! He had invited her to dinner that night, and she had chosen to wear a dress. Look nice, assuming that perhaps he was going to put some effort as he’s been wont to do. But it was nearing eight and they were still at the office, and she deduced he hadn’t made any reservations. He probably meant a chippy, or some Chinese takeaway.

This is what happens when you make assumptions, Robin chastised herself. Wanting to laugh at herself derisively that Cormoran, blissed out from anaesthesia, was _professing_ back at hospital when in fact he wasn’t. In fact, even in his subconscious, he feels for her no differently than he feels for Nick. Friendly. Sisterly. Desexed and platonic. That’s why he’s never made any moves apart from two or three isolated incidents in the last four years. Because he didn’t want to make any.

What a fool she was, thinking maybe—just maybe—he intended a date.

Her stomach was rumbling with hunger but she will not ask what the plan was. Wouldn’t put it past him to forget it completely.

“Shit!” Cormoran exclaimed, realising the time. For a split second thinking that he finally remembered, but he only stood up and walked out.

Ten minutes on and he hadn’t returned. Definitely forgot then. If he’s now settling upstairs at his flat for the night, she wondered if she’ll ever forgive him.

She stole a cup noodle from Cormoran’s stash, swallowing the anger that was threatening to come out in tears as she waited for the kettle to boil. How embarrassing, how painful to feel rejected and rebuffed like this.

She was pouring hot water over her cup noodle, thinking of online dating, when he heard the door creek open.

Cormoran was coming back inside, his behind first to push the door and when he was finally facing her, he had his hands full trying to hold a dutch oven with two hands, plates under one armpit, wine under the other. There was even a tablecloth draped over his shoulder.

Robin would’ve cried for relief and gratitude and hilarity if Cormoran hadn’t yelped, “A little help!” as the wine bottle threatened to slip from his armpit.

“You _cooked_?” she asked him in disbelief.

“Er,” he said sheepishly. “Yeah.”

“You cook?” she teased him as she cleared the debris off their partners table and he draped a tablecloth over it. (She doesn’t know why she loves that he bothered with a tablecloth, but she did.)

“It isn’t a Michelin meal, mind, but it’ll feed us.”

He had made dinner. He had made _her_ dinner. And the ecstasy she felt at this was incomparable to anything she’s ever felt before.

He watched her expectantly as she took her first bite of his curry. The taste was only okay, but it was the best meal of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended for this to be a one-and-done, but the comments were so sweet so I made more!


	3. But they get there in the end.

“Listen,” Cormoran started, downing the curry with wine. “I want to thank you—”

“You don’t—” Robin protested.

“No, let me.” He insisted. “It isn’t your job to look after me. I shouldn’t have put that on you. Business partners shouldn’t be made responsible for something like that.”

A crackle of annoyance seemed to clench all over Robin at this. After everything, after everything they’ve gone through, after everything that’s passed between them, after an admission of best friendship, there he goes again, holding her at arm’s length.

“What’s so funny?” Cormoran asked because she had thoughtlessly smirked humourlessly at Cormoran making yet another gesture he wanted to partly take back.

Deciding once and for all to end this—whatever this is that’s starting to cause her some pain, she shrugged, and nonchalantly speaking into her wine glass more than him, she said, “Thought this was a date.”

She felt brave saying it, but now that it had escaped her lips, she felt as though she was standing naked in front of a large audience with a bright spotlight on her face.

“Robin,” he started, and the tone of his voice sounded to her almost pitying and immediately she felt her face grow hot, felt the fist-sized lump in her throat going down painful as anything. _Do not cry, Robin Ellacott_ , she admonished herself inwardly.

How do people do this? How can they grow feelings, feel rejection, and move on? This seems impossible! This was nothing like the heartbreak she endured in the failure of her marriage. That had felt big and blunt, like being rammed in the gut with a slow-moving wrecking ball. This was a sharp sting. Acute. Like a thousand tiny paper cuts all over her skin.

“I—”

“No, it’s alright.” she heard herself say, immediately sipping her wine, glad her pitch only sounded marginally high and she didn’t sound very tearful. The wine was downing and dulling the worst of it right now. This is why people drink, she thinks. Oh, how well it’s helping.

She even managed a rueful smile. Even managed to joke, “Made a wrong deduction.”

It was rare for Cormoran to be stymied, to be struck dumb. A lifetime of disappointment was pulling at the hot air balloon of hope welling up inside of him. Could she—? Does she—? But surely—? He sensed her unhappiness at having to be at hospital, drive him home. Maybe she’s joking. But he’s never known her to be capable of cruelty.

His mouth dry, he swallowed. “Is that…” he said tentatively, almost in disbelief to be forty and still walk on eggshells like this. But with so much—with _everything_ —on the line, the only move was utmost care. “…something you’d want?”

She gave him a look, her face almost beet red with how fast she was downing her wine. And it struck Cormoran that it might not be fair for him to put it upon her to make that move. That first, definitive, irrevocable move.

She took an intake of breath as though bracing for what she wanted to say. But Cormoran beat her to speech even before he knew what she was going to say.

“I like you, Robin.”

The unvarnished truth was that he loved her. Not like a friend or a sister or a best mate or a business partner. He was _in love_ with her. The first time he felt this sensation coursing through his veins in near five years. Bigger than lust, deeper than affection, he was in love with her.

But he wanted to make his interest known, not have her running for the hills.

“Okay,” she breathed out, as though she’d been holding her breath for a while. “Okay.” was nodding, but mostly to herself it seems. “Okay…”

And then, panting a little as though she finally caught her breath, her eyes were on his and said, “Good.”

He grinned. “Yeah?”

She nodded, smiling though looking mildly bewildered. “Yeah.”

“Er,” he wasn’t sure what was next. She hadn’t said it back. She only made it known she isn’t appalled by his admission. “And you…?”

“Oh? Uh, yeah.” she said, nodding as though deciding on this fact on the spot.

He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “You don’t sound sure.”

“What? Oh!” she started. “Uh, no, I, ah… I just, I didn’t think that you l-liked me, you know, like that.”

“Well, I was your boss! Didn’t want you to think… and you were, you know… occupied.”

Robin let out a large laugh at how Cormoran chose to phrase her engagement and marriage. And then he laughed at her laughter and he felt the heavy awkwardness between them now lifting.

They walked companionably down Denmark Street heading towards Tottenham Court Road station. Side by side, not touching. An onlooker might’ve thought nothing had changed between the two detectives. They hadn’t talked about it, but they both decided they were going to take this slow—which showed impeccable self-restraint, so close to an available bed—do it proper. There’d be time enough for all the rest of it.

They had to pause by the light, and she gripped the back of his coat and he had put his arms around her, and they looked at each other and smiled at each other, puzzle pieces wafting in their minds.

“Call me,” he said as they stood by the escalator down the platforms. “When you get home.”

Robin nodded, smiling.

He wanted to say, “Stay,” but instead said, “Goodnight.”

She wanted to say, “Come with me,” but instead also said, “Goodnight.”

They didn’t mean it, their first kiss. It happened on impulse. Involuntary as their heartbeats. And they parted as soon as they’d done it. Sweet and swift, promising more soon enough.

They smiled as Cormoran walked back to his flat and Robin slipped inside the train, both tingly where their lips had met, thinking that if they were really lucky, that might have just been their last first kiss.

\- FIN -


End file.
